


comes with the territory

by rexcorvidae



Series: scraps and drabbles [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Matt Murdock, Sensory Overload, Worried Matt Murdock, a lil bit of angst, because its me, is this fluff? this is probably as close to fluff as i know how to get, this is so soft fjklskjsl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexcorvidae/pseuds/rexcorvidae
Summary: “’S too loud,” Peter slurs, voice barely above a whisper, “Gotta go, ‘s not safe, it hurts, I don’t-“Shit. Okay, sensory overload. He could deal with that.-Peter has his first experience with the downside of enhanced senses, and Matt panics and is soft.





	comes with the territory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SalazarTipton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/gifts).



> dedicated to the wonderful SalazarTipton who gave me soft devildad content after i had a very bad day.
> 
> also next chapter of genero is almost finished, and will hopefully be up by this weekend? possibly friday if i end up blowing off readings to write fanfic again ~~starting the semester off right yall~~. claire is coming and she has Opinions.

Knowledge of Peter’s super-healing would never make the sound of his body hitting the ground any less terrifying.

Matt has accepted this.

It happened because he was pulling his punches again – so distracted by carefully measuring the force he put behind each hit that a kick to the side caught him off guard, surprising him enough that he fell from the fire escape before he had time to catch himself.

He supposes he should be proud of Peter’s sense of responsibility – his dedication to not hurting anyone more than necessary, to ensuring that Spiderman never, _never_ becomes a murderer – but it’s hard to be proud with his chest clenching in panic when he hears the impact of his kid’s body on the pavement.

It occurs to him, as he breaks the nose of Peter’s former opponent and pushes down the urge to do worse, that it’s probably for the best that they don’t patrol together often.

When he finishes, Peter is already stirring, and Matt hurries to drop down next to him. He’s bleeding, but a careful inspection of the back of his head reveals nothing more than a bump and a cut – a little deep for comfort, but no sign of fracture or anything worse - he lets out a sigh of relief.

“You’re alright.”

Peter doesn’t respond with his usual quip. He doesn’t shoot Matt an easy grin and hop back up to go swinging into danger. Instead, he sits against the wall, body curled forward and heart rapid with what Matt realizes, with a start, is fear.

Which isn’t an _unnatural_ reaction to falling off a fire escape, but he’s seen Peter get _shot_ and insist that he was “totally good to finish up patrol” (a memory he is _not_ fond of), and he can’t understand why _this_ would make him so scared.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

There’s a shaky breath, and what sounds like a shrug, but when it happens again Matt realizes – he’s shaking.

“I- I don’t- yeah. Just… feel weird.”

He helps Peter to his feet before nodding. “Alright. Let’s head back.”

Most concerning is that despite having another hour left on his usual patrol, Peter doesn’t even argue.

He’s hesitant to leave Peter in this state – they rarely patrol together, but when they do, he’s careful to ensure that they arrive and leave separately. The idea of Fisk making the connection, _any_ connection, between Daredevil and Spiderman is a risk that Matt refuses to take.

But Peter seems steady on his feet, and the sooner they get home, the sooner he can fully inspect the damage and determine if a call to Claire is in order.

This plan is abandoned about halfway home when a car starts honking furiously two blocks over. He hears Peter’s sharp gasp, and then, for the second time that night, the sound of a body slamming into cement.

But this time, Peter doesn’t get back up.

Caution forgotten entirely, he sprints in Peter’s direction.

What he finds isn’t comforting.

Peter is hunched beside a dumpster, hands clamped tightly over his ears, smelling like fear and confusion, and letting out pained whimpers that make Matt’s heart clench sharply.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, urgent. His voice is low, but Peter flinches away from it like it burns, and shakes his head.

“’S too _loud_ ,” Peter slurs, voice barely above a whisper, “Gotta _go_ , ‘s not safe, it _hurts_ , I don’t-“

Shit. Okay, sensory overload. He could deal with that.

“Alright, kiddo,” he soothes in the softest voice he can manage, “You’re going to be fine, let’s just get back, okay?”

Peter manages to stand, and even take a few wobbly steps before his knees give out beneath him. Panic starts to mix in with the fear now, his breaths coming faster and faster, and Matt isn’t far behind him. He pushes it away for the time being, and wraps the kid’s arm around his neck, tucking him against his side and murmuring soft reassurances, praying he can keep the panic attack at bay until they get home.

They’ve barely made it through the window before Peter gives a tremor so violent that for a terrifying moment Matt thinks he’s having a seizure. He falls to the floor and scrambles away until his back hits the far wall. He’s curled up, head pressed to his knees, and one hand scratching so hard at the back of his neck that Matt can smell blood.

“Something’s _wrong_ ,” he moaned, “It’s not safe, I don’t know- Matt, _please_ we gotta- we gotta get out of here, or-“

He kneels in front of Peter and pries his hand away from his neck as gently as possible. Peter doesn’t fight him, body coiled tense as a bow string as he curls into himself as much as he can, trying to find some relief from the senses overwhelming him.

“Listen to me.” He uses what Foggy calls his _dad_ voice, and Peter doesn’t relax, but he kind of twitches his head in Matt’s direction, and which is probably the best he’s going to get. “You’re okay, Peter. I promise. We're fine.”

“ _No_ ,” Peter groans, shaking his head and reaching for the back of his neck again, “My- my spidey-sense, I can _feel_ it, we have to-”

Matt reaches out with his own senses. Hears rain on the sidewalks, smells the unique odor of wet garbage mixed with oil from the road. Their neighbors talking below them, feet stomping on the ground outside, soft snoring, and music playing.

“There’s nothing wrong, kid. There’s no danger. We’re in our apartment, we’re safe.” Peter doesn’t respond except to shake his head, and Matt presses on. “Peter, do you trust me?”

There’s a pause, but Peter gives a shaky nod, and in a voice barely above a whisper, “’Course I do.”

It’s said so matter-of-factly, like Matt had just asked him if the sky was blue, and that implicit trust never stops making him feel fond and terrified in equal measure.

“Okay,” Matt soothes, “Then trust me on this. I’m keeping an ear out, alright? If there’s danger, I’ll let you know, and we can deal with it together.”

In reality, Peter is in no shape to fight – if some unavoidable danger _does_ make itself known, his plan is to shove Peter somewhere safe and go deal with it himself – but of course, the kid doesn’t need to know that.

The assurance is enough for Peter, who gives a tremulous nod. “I don’t- what’s happening?”

 “Your senses are going into overdrive, right? I think hitting your head earlier might have dialed them up.”

(Honestly, Matt has no idea. It _sounds_ right, and Peter just sounds so _scared_ and Matt- he just wants to calm him down. Wants him to feel like there’s a grown-up here who knows what’s going on, and will take care of him, because when he woke up for the first time after the accident and the world was too loud, that was all _he_ wanted, too.)

The teenager moans miserably. “It _hurts_. I can’t- how do I make it stop?”

Guilt and uselessness make Matt’s stomach twist painfully, and he wonders if this is how his own father felt. When he woke up and cried in the hospital, when he’d hide himself under the bed because sounds and smells of their little neighborhood became too much, and Jack would spend hours lying on the ground next to the bed trying to comfort his son through something he didn’t understand.

“It’ll pass,” Matt tells him desperately. He prays that it’s true. These episodes always pass for _him_ , but he knows terrifyingly little about Peter’s mutation, and he doesn’t honestly know. “I’m gonna help you, okay kid? I’m right here.”

He goes to say more, but outside, a car swerves violently. Tires screech, the engine screams, and metal crumbles when the driver clips a parked car. Pedestrians are yelling, followed by shrill police sirens, and the influx of new sounds makes Peter let out a choked yell, pained and confused and _scared_. He falls to his side, hands clamped down over his ears as he curls up as small as he can. Matt can smell tears on his face.

He doesn’t bother saying anything else. He knows from experience that Peter is too far gone right now, too busy trying to keep himself afloat amidst the sounds and smells and textures threatening to overwhelm him, to really process anything Matt might say to him. He half-carries Peter to his own bed, and when he hits the silk sheets Matt can _feel_ some of the tension melt out of him.

It brings Peter out of his haze enough for Matt to coax him into trading the suit (an acrylic, polyester blend that Matt _knows_ must feel like sandpaper right about now) for a pair of soft drawstring pants, a microfiber t-shirt, and an old Columbia hoodie that Peter has claimed as his own. He slips a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over Peter’s ears and ignores him when he shakes his head to refuse them.

“Won’t work. Can still- it’s all still too _loud_.”

“I know,” Matt soothes, “but they’ll help.”

He originally intended to leave Peter alone to get some rest, but even after getting him arranged on the bed, he can tell that Peter is still _terrified_ , shaking violently and occasionally giving a sharp jerk at a sound that stands out over the din.

He perches on the edge of the bed and brushes a few damp curls off his kid’s forehead. “Peter, can you hear me?” He gets a jerky nod in return. “You’re safe, okay? There's no danger. Everything’s alright.”

Peter makes a soft, frustrated noise. It’s clear he that _wants_ to believe Matt, but his spidey-sense is still writhing at the base of his neck, screaming _danger, run, hide_ , and it won’t let him relax.

Matt sighs and nudges him gently with his hip. “Scooch, kiddo.”

He does so, and Matt half-sits, half-lays next to him on top of the blankets.

Peter is a pretty tactile kid – he adores casual touches with the people he cares about. He’s at his happiest with MJ draped over his lap, and him draped over Ned’s. But he’s also anxious, eternally worried about imposing, or being a burden, _especially_ when it comes to Matt (a fear he’s determined break the kid of) and so he rarely initiates it, rarely asks for it.

It’s a testament, then, to how miserable he is, that he clings to Matt without hesitation, and tucks himself against his side.

It takes Matt by surprise, and he freezes for a moment before returning the embrace. He rubs Peter’s back in wide, steady circles with one hand, and tucks the kid’s head securely under his chin with the other.

“You’re alright,” He whispers. “I’m right here, kiddo. We’re safe. Just relax.”

It takes about half an hour for the shaking to stop, and another hour for Peter to calm down enough to fall asleep. Every time he would start to drift off, a car would honk, or one of their neighbors would drop something, and he’d go tense and anxious all over again. Eventually, though, the exhaustion seems to overwhelm him, and he becomes warm weight against Matt’s side.

He waits until Peter’s heart slows, and his breathing is deep and even, before carefully beginning to extricate himself from the tight grasp.

Matt’s barely begun to move before Peter’s fists clench, gripping his shirt tightly. “Don’ leave,” he slurs, still half asleep. “Stay. Please.”

Something tight inside his chest uncoils, warmth and fondness flaring up in its place.

This is not how he ever imagined his life, but when he returns to his original position and wraps an arm around his kid, he finds that he doesn’t really mind.

“Of course, kid. For as long as you need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> what is the larger verse surrounding this? is may dead? is peter matt's biological kid? did he just pick up a spider child off the street? who knows! not me
> 
> ty for reading!! hmu on my writing tumblr [rexcorvidae](rexcorvidae.tumblr.com) and drop me prompts about peter parker and his many dads. also kudos and comments are your friend etc etc


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